


Richie Tozier: not your average sleeping beauty

by manfred_stone



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Deadlights (IT), Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Good Boyfriend, First Kiss, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Smol Angst with Good Ending, Some Domestic Elements, no one dare touch eddie I will throw hands, tw for brief mentions blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-11-27 13:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20949155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manfred_stone/pseuds/manfred_stone
Summary: "Richie! I think I got it, man! I think I killed it for real!"Richie didn't answer, nor move.It’s alright,he tried telling himself, somehow not panicking yet– to be honest he’d done his fair share of panicking already—Richie has just been temporarily knocked out by the fall.He thought so until the moment he grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around. Richie’s eyes still rolled all the way into his skull, and his nose bled upwards, because evidently gravity was a fucking opinion.–or: Richie is still stuck in the deadlights after Eddie injures It.





	1. "Took Us Long Enough."

Somehow, it was all quite natural to Eddie. Throwing a rusted spear right through a shapeshifting killer clown’s open jaws actually felt right. Especially when said clown had hypnotised, if that was even the right way to call it, Richie with those goddamned lights.

It fell down, writhing in pain and letting out an anguished wail as it started shrinking into a much more manageable form. It was weak and vulnerable.   
Richie too, fell down, right onto his ass, and remained there, limp. No dumb jokes, no swearing, not a single sound came from him.

“We got it, Eddie! Take care of Richie!” Eddie heard Bill shout as the rest of the Losers began circling It.

Bill didn’t have to repeat himself as Eddie rushed to Richie’s side.

"Richie! I think I got it, man! I think I killed it for real!"

Richie didn't answer, nor move.

_It’s alright_, he tried telling himself, somehow not panicking yet– to be honest he’d done his fair share of panicking already— _Richie has just been temporarily knocked out by the fall_.  
He thought so until the moment he grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around. Richie’s eyes still rolled all the way into his skull, and his nose bled upwards, because evidently gravity was a _fucking opinion_.

“Richie!” He called out, giving the man a shake. Nothing changed, but he heard another of Pennywise’s monstrous wails and decided to move Richie somewhere safer, just in case.

“Fuck, fuck, **_fuck!_**” He swore, grabbing the collar of Richie’s jacket in order to start dragging him towards an empty spot shielded by a rock, which, hopefully, would protect the both of them in case Pennywise decided to be even more of an asshole.

“You’re so heavy for a shithead, you know that?” He muttered as he rested Richie against the stone. For once in his life, Eddie would have loved to hear a snarky remark about how he definitely wasn’t too heavy for his mother.

He moved closer to him, taking his face into his hands as he called out his name once again, more desperately. He started to realise that if not even killing Pennywise worked to get Richie out of that state, he could be stuck like that forever. Eddie didn’t want that. He couldn’t lose him, after forgetting what they had for twenty-seven goddamn years, their undeniable bond to each other, there was no way he’d ever let him go again. 

“No, no, Richie, come on!” He pleaded, tears gathering in his eyes as one of his hands reached to grab the collar of his jacket. “You don’t get to leave me alone after fucking with me for so long!”

It hit him as he grabbed Richie’s hand and brought it up to his own face, resting it against his undamaged cheek: when Beverly had been caught in the deadlights, Ben had kissed her, and she’d woken up– almost like the Sleeping Beauty scene, where the princess can only be saved by her true love’s kiss.

Ben surely loved Bev that much. It had been quite clear since the beginning.

Richie? Richie wasn’t the exact replica of a princess, he was sweaty, it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days at least, and his limbs were too long for his own good. Damn, _what a look_.  
Despite that, nothing could hold Richie away from Eddie, not a killer clown, not those three fucking lights swirling as they floated not too far from them.

He closed his eyes, leaning in closer and closer until– _well,_ there was a lot of blood on Richie’s face, and it was disgusting, and he tried to avoid thinking about everything absolutely repulsive and unsanitary that had happened in the underground hell that was Pennywise’s lair. On the positive side, Eddie was certain he was kissing the love of his life and if that didn’t work might as well try punching life back into the guy.

* * *

“Hey fuckface!” Richie yelled, surely catching the monster’s attention before it was too late for Mike.

It tossed Mike aside, running- skittering– _whatever those crab claws did_— towards Richie at a great pace.

“You wanna play truth or dare? Here’s the truth, you’re a _sloppy bitch!_” Richie reached down and grabbed a rock, raising it and getting ready to hit Pennywise once again.

“Yeah that’s right! Let’s dance.”

He raised his arm higher, he was right about to throw.

** _“Yippie-ki-yay motherf—”_ **

It was all black; Richie was quite sure he’d died– or he might as well have shat himself in fear and then passed out.

The former was more likely than the latter, but _hey_, a man could dream. He’d reached his Forties without declaring his undying love for the one and only man that he’d ever loved in his life— no big deal. 

It was just the biggest regret he’d ever had.

If he only knew where his eyes were, he would have allowed himself to cry for once.

It took a killer clown (the sequel) for him to finally realise that holding his emotions deep inside was a terrible coping mechanism, but the moment he felt the most like releasing his sorrow into the world he couldn’t even figure out where his eyes were, so, you know, he could cry them out.

Maybe he didn’t need to know where they were because all of a sudden, he felt sweaty, damp and all kinds of gross, but then it felt good, the kind of good that pours all the way down into your chest and spreads to your arms, legs— legs?

He felt himself mumble, and it was supposed to be _‘fucker’_, but something muffled came out because- 

Eddie was kissing him.

Eddie was _kissing_ _him_.

_The holiest of all the shits_– Eddie fucking Kaspbrak had put his lips on his, and it felt oh so heavenly.

Richie wondered for a second if he had actually died. He came to the conclusion that _fuck it_, kissing Eddie had been the subject of most of his dreams and thoughts for years to no end and he couldn’t deny himself this heaven-sent feeling. 

He scrambled to a better sitting position and then raised a hand to pull Eddie closer, but he chose the wrong side of his face and _fuck_, that thing underneath his thumb was definitely Eddie’s stab-wound bandage. Eddie let out a soft sigh against his lips before pulling away.

“Wow, Eddie,” Richie sighed. For a hot second there, he had completely forgotten that he was a loud-mouthed comedian and he was supposed to make jokes about everything. Eddie’s lips had the power to shut his brain off for at least a few seconds. Luckily humour found its way back to him. “What a way to prove me you’re a better kisser than your mom.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” Eddie huffed. He reached down and took his hand.

“Scandalous, take me out to dinner first!” Richie smiled. 

The ground underneath their feet began to shake, as the massive spear-like stones crumbled and fell down. Richie instinctively pulled Eddie closer as they both stood up before noticing Beverly, covered head to toes in blood, yelling at them to _move, quickly._

Making the way back out the Neibolt house was nerve-wracking as literally everything around them fell apart.

The six of them stood there, watching the building bend and snap and disappear in a huge vortex of destruction, and in that moment Richie realised that it was over. Like, _over over_. **_Dead__._** No more killer clown from outer space and no more of that disappearing children bullshit. More importantly, his _‘dirty little secret’_ was quite out of the closet now. And nothing tragic had happened. Except for the big crab-like alien clown dying, which wasn’t tragic at all, actually.

For once Richie could say he was smiling out of happiness and relief.

Eddie wrapped an arm around his waist and Richie looked at him knowing well he would have done anything in his power to keep him safe and happy as well as he knew that he was the luckiest man on Earth.

“What are you looking at, asshole?” Eddie asked. Despite the insult, there was affection in his voice.

“Nothing, I’m just thinking that fresh-out-of-the-sewer look really suits you, Eds.”

“Fuck you, man! It’s not like you smell like fresh fucking roses!”

Richie chuckled and raised a hand to try and wipe the blood from his face with the sleeve of his jacket. He ended up just smearing it around his face so he let Eddie take over the situation.

Most of the losers were tending to their own wounds, so Richie figured it wouldn’t be a bother if he and Eddie took a while for themselves as well.

He sat on a nearby rock as Eddie took his face into his hands and used his own sleeve to clean Richie’s face.

“You know it’s love when he wipes the blood away with his own sweatshirt!”

At that statement, Eddie limited himself to rolling his eyes. Richie had the impression he’d be seeing that expression a lot. He loved it.

After a few seconds, Eddie stopped wiping his face and held it between his hands.

“For a second I thought you’d left me for good, fuckface.”

Richie turned to kiss the palm of Eddie’s hand, then kept it pressed against his cheek. “I couldn’t possibly leave you, Eds Spaghets, I’m not done pestering you yet.”

He stood up and moved closer to Eddie, resting a hand on his hip. It felt like the right moment to _say it_, but once more, Richie found himself tongue-tied in front of Eddie.

“I love y–" They said, at the same time, cutting each other off. In a tragicomical matter of events, they ended up trying to confess their feelings one over the other, and laughing it off. _No one else could fuck up their own love confession but them_, Richie thought.

“Yeah, we’re on the same page.” Richie smiled, leaning down to press a kiss on Eddie’s lips. “Took us long enough.”


	2. HOW TO: Take Care of Your Stressed-Out and Traumatised Comedian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard for Richie to fight lingering nightmares; it's harder for Eddie to watch him suffer.

The quarry hadn't changed at all. Even despite the twenty-seven years between them and the last time they'd been there, it was as if they hadn't left. The only difference since their last visit was the fact Derry had been freed from its curse. With their promise fulfilled, and the scar on their hands nowhere to be seen, the Losers made their way to the cliff.

Beverly was the first one to jump in the water. Ben, Bill and Mike followed her closely.

Richie and Eddie quickly swam to the shore, Eddie too worried about his stab-wound to stay into the _‘staph-infected’ _water and Richie much too preoccupied with sticking close to Eddie to even consider going back in. They sat with a tree trunk behind their backs, and, underneath them, the jacket Richie had so kindly sacrificed in order not to sit on the muddy ground.

“I didn’t thank you for the— _you know_. When I got caught in those lights... you really saved me, Eddie.”

Richie thought it all over again, and it still didn’t make any sense to him, but he guessed he would have to get used to the fact Eddie loved him back.

“Not a problem. I definitely wouldn’t do it again, though, your face is still covered in _god-knows-what._”

He turned to face Eddie, noticing the bandage on his cheek had come a bit loose after their marathon out of the sewers and the Neibolt house.

“We’ve got plenty of time once we’re back at the inn, you know. I’ll wash my face and the rest too— Richie winked. – you’ll have no excuse to resist my charm.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but as he did so he placed his hand over Richie’s and squeezed it.

“We might need more than a few showers.”

A warm feeling spread from the centre of Richie’s chest into all of his body. He’d always wondered how it felt to be loved the same way he’d loved and twenty-seven years later he received his answer. Being close to Eddie had fuelled his feelings for him for years, but this, the touch, the tone in his voice as he spoke to him, _this_ filled the void inside him that had been gradually expanding to a black hole of feelings.

The rest of the Losers were taking ages in the quarry. Richie and Eddie, by that point, were just wishing for a shower with clean water to magically materialise itself into existence a few feet away from them. That didn’t happen, so they settled for removing the dirtiest pieces of their clothing, such as Eddie’s sweatshirt and Richie’s yellow-turned-brownish shirt and hoping that the others would notice and leave. Although, by the looks on Bev and Ben’s face, Richie thought, they wouldn’t be done any time soon.

At first, he rested his head on Eddie’s shoulder. His perpetual tiredness and the fact he hadn't allowed himself to sleep since he'd arrived in Derry had him slowly slide down to lie onto Eddie's lap.

"I can't believe I'm this close to your crotch," Richie chuckled drowsily.

"Beep fucking beep, dickwad." Eddie sighed happily. He began running his fingers through Richie's dark curls as he slowly drifted into sleep.  
  


Eddie let himself relax for a second. With Richie's inevitable comedic chatter reduced to only a light snoring, all that Eddie could bring himself to do was to listen to the wind that blew through the leaves in that late summer day. Ignoring the red, hot, throbbing pain of his stab-wound, it almost was a nice day. No one could tell it was one of the most important days of Derry’s history except for them. Things were changing, everything would change.

Starting with Richie.

Richie himself hadn’t changed, he’d always been a tall, loud-mouthed funny asshole; he was Richie and Eddie loved him for it. He could barely stand the guy, but he loved him, _a blessing and a curse_. Eddie knew that it was the only thing that he wouldn’t be able to change about himself, although coming to terms with his own feelings for Richie, _that_ had been a whole different topic. He knew he wanted to be _with_ Richie, when he was younger he’d always wanted to be beside Richie, although he’d never quite figured out why he kept inching closer to him when they sat together, or why it would hurt when Richie was away.

He’d allowed his mother to convince him that they were just really close friends, and that a young boy like him could never put himself at risk of being any kind of different from “normal”, _not with all of his health problems!_

Richie had been the only one to say that he was a very fucking normal <strike>hypochondriac</strike> human being and he was right; _he’d always been right._

He couldn't even bring himself to understand how he managed to spend so much time without Richie– it wasn't even comprehensible for him in that moment to think he'd spent almost two decades without seeing his best friend, without thinking about him every day, and without holding him like he was.  
There probably was no worse feeling than suddenly get hit by the realization that all he'd done in his life, he'd done trying to fill a void that forgetting Richie had created.

That emptiness was nowhere to be seen now that Richie slept (somehow) comfortably on his lap.

He wondered what had gone through his own head just a few weeks prior, when he didn’t know about the existence of Derry, or Pennywise the killer clown or Richie Trashmouth Tozier. It was so much to take in, even though he unconsciously was aware of everything, remembering it had been a shock.

Eddie used to think he had no actual shot at happiness, he’d believed it was just another made up lie that kept the world going until his eyes met Richie.  
When they met again, he couldn’t stop the feeling rising into his chest there was hope: he could be happy if Richie was there beside him.

He’d almost lost the one chance he had, when Richie was stuck in the deadlights. It made his heart pound just thinking about what it might’ve been if Richie hadn’t woken up.  
If he hadn’t been able to get him out of the lights, Richie could have still been stuck into that comatose state. For half a second, Eddie worried about Richie sleeping after what had happened, but he shrugged it off as paranoia as he knew the lights, as well as It, were dead.

As if he were able to read Eddie’s thoughts, Richie stirred, his face scrunched into a frown. Eddie caressed his cheek, tentatively trying to ease Richie back into relaxation, but he began moving more, small rapid movements as he tossed his head from left to right and right to left again.

He woke up with a loud gasp. For a split second, Eddie could have sworn that Richie’s eyes were milky white, but once he blinked, his eyes were back to normal, just… watery and open wide. He looked surprised, terrified, but at the same time, _heartbroken_. Eddie’s chest clenched in pain.

_“Eddie...?”_ Richie asked, his voice a trembling whisper.

He didn’t have time to answer as Richie sat up and threw himself between Eddie’s parted arms.

Clinging onto Eddie’s shirt, Richie buried his face in his shoulder as sobs shook his entire body.

* * *

Richie kissed him again, and again, and then once more. His hand traced a path from his knee to his upper thigh, the tips of his fingers brushed the skin underneath his boxers.

He enjoyed the closeness, he felt the need to draw Eddie closer to him, hands grazing over his body to make sure he was actually there with him and nowhere else. There was one point his hands kept hovering over, trembling, but without actually touching it: the middle of Eddie’s chest.  
To be fair, there was nothing there, there was absolutely nothing wrong with it– he was _fine_.

“Okay, this is _ridiculous._” Eddie sighed, breaking the kiss and moving back to look at Richie. “If you didn’t want to do this, we could have just finished the movie, you know? You were the one pestering me with kisses!”

Richie blinked, stunned, and that was enough to earn him a huff from Eddie. _“I’m sorry–”_ He blurted out, lowering his eyes to his own hands. He could _almost_ see the red stains.

Eddie’s gaze softened, knowing Richie well enough to understand that if he didn’t take every chance he had to joke around, there must have been something bothering him.

“It’s alright, Richie.” He said. With his hand he cupped Richie’s cheek and had him look up. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Richie let out a long sigh and sat against the headboard of the bed. He’d tried to manage it himself, but he clearly wasn’t holding up that well.

“I saw something in the lights, those fucking lights.” He started, surprised at the fact his voice wasn’t cracking already. “I didn’t realize it before, I just thought I was out for a while before you managed to... _wake me._”

Eddie sat next to him.

“And I don’t fucking know _how_, I don’t fucking know _why_, when I fell asleep at the quarry I could see it more clearly and it was... it was us, but back at Neibolt, I saw Pennywise piercing your chest with one of those fucking claws, it got blood on those goddamn ruffles and- my glasses, fuck– and... and all of that shit— I... I couldn’t...”

There came the crack in the dam. His shoulders quivered as Eddie wrapped an arm around them.

“It’s stupid, I fucking know that, I’m— I’m here **_with you_** and I can’t stop thinking about it, even though you’re **here** and you’re fucking fantastic.”

Richie was close to sobbing, whatever words he tried to say just tightened the knot in his throat. He couldn’t stop it, he didn’t know if he wanted to; it felt good to let go once and for all, and he knew Eddie wouldn’t mock him for it. Richie heard his sobs echo into the palms of his hands, as well as the soothing sequence of _‘It’s Alright’s_ coming from Eddie.  
  
He remembered clearly the feeling of holding Eddie’s lifeless body flush against his chest, the blood soaking through his shirt, seeping through his fingers. They’d had to pull him away from Eddie, he couldn’t leave, he couldn’t let Eddie go, not yet, he still had to tell him.

_None of that had happened._

His mind was confused and torn as it urged him to mourn someone who was still alive. His thoughts were all over the place when the fake memories took over, and that made it even harder to recognize what was real and what wasn't.

Eventually, Richie had no tears nor energy left. It had seemed impossible for Eddie to actually witness the moment Richie ran out of jokes and fuel, but it had come, and it couldn't have been worse.  
He had Richie lie down on the bed and put his pajamas on before making chamomile tea.

As he settled beside Richie in the bed, he placed the tea on the bedside table and left a tender kiss on Richie's forehead.

There was no manual titled _"How to: Take Care of Your Stressed-Out and Traumatised Comedian"_, and most definitely he had no expertise in that area, but he knew Richie. If his never-ending train of thoughts had by any means slowed down or came to an halt, perhaps what Richie needed was peace, quiet and reassurance that he could allow himself to breathe.

When Richie came round again, his head throbbed and his throat hurt. He couldn’t really remember the last time he’d cried so much and so hard that whenever he tried to speak, it felt like someone had been rubbing sandpaper on his vocal cords.

Eddie was right beside him, asleep with his arms wrapped around his waist in a reassuring embrace.

He turned around with a weak moan, the sheets he didn’t remember getting underneath rustling and sliding off him as he placed his head on Eddie's shoulder.

In an act of bravery, he traced a path on Eddie's chest with his hand, all the way from his abdomen to the dip in the middle of his chest. No blood, no gaping open wound. If It had really managed to take Eddie away from him, his hand wouldn't be able to rest there, moving ever so slightly along with the rising and falling of Eddie's breathing.  
  


He was okay, he was alive.

Richie kissed Eddie’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

Smiling to himself in the dark of their room, Richie thought that maybe, just maybe, he deserved to be happy as much as anyone else.

Richie had the habit of sleeping in. It had come from many years of working during the evening or for late-night shows, and from his general tiredness; Moreover, Eddie was pretty sure the man hadn’t slept a minute of his twenties by chugging Monster’s. Eddie naturally woke up early, but for once he opted for staying in bed longer. Had it been any other day, he probably would have kicked Richie off of him, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to wake him up. He deserved to rest.

Richie’s hand was on his chest, lightly holding onto the fabric of his shirt.

Eddie one-handedly adjusted the blanket, covering them both and revelling in Richie’s heat. He’d tried sleeping in the same bed as Myra, (and ended up getting yelled at the second he changed his sleeping position because _his back! what about scoliosis?!_) but sleeping with Richie was a completely different experience.

Richie was a pole of a human being (he had to be, since Eddie was _obviously_ of normal-medium height), but somehow he was so warm, most of the time Eddie didn’t mind it when Richie decided to spend the entire night between his arms.

One wouldn’t figure Richie to be the little spoon of the situation, but he just was. Eddie had no complaints about it. Maybe Richie could have shaved a little more often in order to avoid beard-burns on Eddie’s neck, although, honestly, Eddie adored the way Richie looked in the morning. He sported the perfect balance between messy and handsome.

“Your bony arm is digging into my back, jesus, Eds–” Richie croaked after a while. He stirred and buried his face into the pillow, untangling himself from the skein of limbs that was their sleeping position.

“You sleep on my arm and it’s my fault? And don’t call me Eds.” Eddie sighed.

Suddenly the realisation Eddie was still there, next to him, hit him. “Did I wake up early? What–”

“No, it’s a quarter to twelve, I wanted to sleep in with you.” Eddie adjusted himself in order to steal most of the blanket and take place closer to Richie.

“Okay, wow, Spaghets.” Richie whispered; a characteristic dumb smile spread on his lips as he turned to face his boyfriend. His eyes were still quite red and puffy, but it seemed like most of the distress that had Richie in pain the night before was gone.  
  


The light spilling from the half-closed blinds caressed Richie’s curls, his back.

Eddie couldn’t resist kissing him before he sat up.

“Breakfast? It’d be more brunch in bed than normal breakfast, but if you’re down for it...”

Richie nodded, but the second Eddie was about to stand up and leave, he grabbed the hem of his pyjama shirt.

“Eddie... thank you.”

Richie didn’t know what would have happened if he had woken up alone, nor he knew what he would have been able to do the night before if Eddie hadn’t been there to calm him down, but the one thing he knew was that he wouldn’t let go of him.

Never again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! sorry it took me a while to publish this one– inspiration is a though bitch

**Author's Note:**

> listen I agree with everything about this movie but killing off eddie was humanity's worst mistake and you can't convince me otherwise.
> 
> thanks for reading!  
ps. I might add a second chapter of the boys at the quarry because that scene broke my heart and I have the need to fix it


End file.
